


two dudes chillin' six feet apart because social distancing

by captainsourwolf



Series: Creative House [4]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Anal Fingering, Desperation, Established Relationship, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, implied polyamory, social distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23382433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsourwolf/pseuds/captainsourwolf
Summary: creative house, half an hour, i need you
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Series: Creative House [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665916
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	two dudes chillin' six feet apart because social distancing

_creative house, half an hour, i need you_

Link stares at his phone, at the message Rhett sent exactly thirty-two minutes ago, and his brow knits as he frowns. Rhett said half an hour and it’s been two minutes longer than that. Normally he wouldn’t care, but, well, he _misses_ Rhett. He needs Rhett, too. Not being able to see each other, touch each other, just be with each other, has driven him to the edge and he’s _tired_ of it. He hopes Rhett’s message means what he thinks it does. 

The day is sunny and warm, finally showing signs of spring. It’s a beautiful day to get some fresh air. But Link couldn’t care less. He paces the living room floor and huffs when he checks his phone again, seeing that it’s been three more minutes and Rhett still hasn’t arrived. Should he call? What if Rhett changed his mind and decided to stay home? What if _i need you_ wasn’t the way Link needed him?

Link is about to press the call button next to Rhett’s name when the door handle jiggles and Rhett comes walking in a moment later in a hurried frenzy. Link freezes. Rhett is the picture of silent desperation as he closes the door. Hair a mess, eyes wild, shirt wrinkled at the bottom like he’d been wringing it in his hands--Rhett is the farthest from calm a person could be. But he stops when he sees Link, eyes going a bit wide, and then a smile is breaking out over his face.

Forgetting for a moment, Link rushes across the room with his arms outstretched only to stop when Rhett holds up his hands and shakes his head.

“We can’t touch. Six feet, remember?” he reminds Link with a wry smile. 

Link grunts in frustration and drops his arms to his sides, then takes a few steps backwards. “This is bullshit. Why’d you ask me to meet you here if we can’t touch each other?” he asks. His face twists up in annoyance. 

Chuckling, Rhett shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. Link follows the movement, feeling a spike of arousal in his gut at such a simple gesture. He desperately wants that hand in _his_ hair; he wants that hand to touch his body, to caress his cheek, to do so many things they haven’t been able to do for days. 

“I--I wanted to see you,” Rhett stammers, cheeks flushing in embarrassment at the admission. “I need you, but I don’t know how we can--” His words trail off in an aggravated sigh, the hand in his hair tightening a bit. “Maybe this was a stupid idea, sorry, I just…” He shrugs again and his shoulders drop in defeat, hand falling to his side heavily.

Determined to make this work, Link gestures to the couch. “Sit on the couch. I’ll sit over there, across the room, far enough away we can talk and still see each other.” His tone leaves no room for argument. Rhett’s tense stature eases and in three long strides he’s seating himself on the couch while Link crosses the room a few feet to the armchair. 

Link waits for Rhett to situate himself on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him, hands huge on his own thighs. Link takes in the sight of his best friend for a long moment: the way his fingers absentmindedly rub over his jeans, how strong his thighs look underneath the fabric, his buff arms stretching the sleeves of his tight shirt, his messy hair and blushing cheeks. Everything about Rhett has Link squirming a bit in the chair. He tries to shift as subtly as possible, and thankfully Rhett doesn’t seem to notice.

To distract himself, Link starts talking. “What have you been doin’?” he asks. Rhett grins at him across the room. The sight is nearly blinding. _Fuck_ , Link has missed him. FaceTime and Skype don’t do the man justice. 

“You know what I’ve been doing, we just talked last night.” Rhett shakes his head, grinning still, cheeks rounded and pink as he looks at Link. A beat of silence while they stare at each other, then, “I really have missed you, bo. Been drivin’ Jess and the kids crazy. Link this, Link that!” The admission makes his cheeks burn brighter.

“Pretend like we haven’t talked in a while,” Link requests and shifts in his chair to get more comfortable. It’s difficult to do so when all he wants is to be by Rhett’s side, hold his hand, kiss him, just be _near_ him. This distancing is driving him crazy. “Tell me what you did last night, please?”

Rhett sighs but he’s smiling still, soft and sweet as he stares at Link from across the room. He rubs a hand over his beard in thought while Link watches, following the movement with his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to be the one running his hand through that beard right now; to feel it under his palm or better yet, on his throat, lower over his chest and his belly and between his thighs, too. His cock twitches in the tight confines of his jeans and underwear. Link stifles a moan by biting his lip and keeping his sole focus on Rhett, on his face and nowhere else. 

“Hung out in the garage last night,” Rhett begins softly, like Link hasn’t heard all this already. “Brought Meatagain back for Instagram, so that was an experience. I finished reading that book you recommended.” He hums in thought, eyebrows knitting and gaze flicking down to the floor and back up again to settle on Link’s face.

Ears perked up and attuned to Rhett’s voice, Link absorbs every word. He didn’t realize how much talking over FaceTime and Skype could distort something until he’s heard it again, in front of him, six feet away. He never appreciated how nice Rhett’s voice is before now. 

Hearing it like this, so clear, after hearing it through tinny speakers for so many days, has his stomach erupting into butterflies and his pulse racing. Another moan threatens to spill out, but he doesn’t catch it in time. It slips out, low and breathy, and Rhett’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. Link is half-hard in his pants--has been for awhile, when he thinks about it--and his heart is beating wildly in his chest.

“I haven’t told you what I did after we hung up last night, have I?” Rhett brings both hands to his lap, perilously close to his crotch, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. Link swallows hard and shakes his head, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“What did you do?” Link hates the way his voice shakes when he speaks. 

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you, how much I missed you.” Rhett sighs and his legs fall open slightly, the motion immediately drawing Link’s eyes to his lap. Licking his lips, he quickly looks back to Rhett’s face, sees him staring intently at Link’s mouth. “So I touched myself, thinking about you and your mouth and how much I missed it.”

Link’s breath hitches in his chest and he can’t stop the desperate whimper as his own legs splay open, cock straining now against the zipper of his jeans. He adjusts himself in the chair, finding little relief for the ache beginning in his groin. 

“Thought about the last time we were able to touch,” Rhett continues, murmuring as he absently strokes his index finger on the seam of his inner thigh. Link sees the way his eyes flutter, the way his lips part on a sigh as he moves higher along the seam. 

“Yeah? Tell me about it,” Link commands softly, unbuttoning his pants one-handed, other hand gripping the arm of the chair tightly. _Oh_ , how he wants to just run over there, kiss Rhett, get his jeans open, _anything_ to satisfy the need coursing through his veins. The fastenings come undone easy, and he can hear Rhett breathing in sharply across the room. 

“You want me to tell you how I touched myself last night?” Rhett confirms. Link nods furiously. He’s sure he must look desperate sitting there with his legs spread, jeans open as far as they’ll go, hand creeping underneath his bottoms and stopping just shy of his cock, and the pad of his thumb teasing along the soft skin under his belly button. 

“ _Please_ , Rhett.”

Rhett smirks, and then he’s unbuttoning his pants and lifting his hips, shoving them down in one easy motion to his knees. He looks just as affected as Link feels, tight red briefs leaving little to the imagination, what skin Link can see just as flushed as his face. Biting his lip, Rhett dips his hand in his underwear, sighing when his hand wraps around his cock. Link can see the outline of it closed in his fist and suddenly feels hot all over wishing that it was his hand Rhett was groaning about. 

“Want me to tell you how I stroked myself, Link? How desperate I was to get off that I shamelessly fucked my fist right there on the couch until I came all over myself? How I imagined you there, between my thighs, sucking me off with that talented mouth?” 

_Yes_ , Link thinks. He wants that too much. If he can’t have it himself he wants to hear about it, to see it happen, to know that Rhett was just as desperate and needy for him last night as he is for Rhett right now. He releases a stuttered moan and can’t resist any longer; he needs to touch himself. 

Making sure Rhett is watching, Link slides his hand into his jeans and briefs the rest of the way, precum smearing on his skin as he wraps long fingers around his dick. He moans and his eyes flutter closed at such a simple touch, but _fuck_ if it doesn’t feel good. He’s touched himself plenty during their time away: jacking off in the middle of the night after hearing Rhett’s voice on the phone, a quick and desperate solo handjob in the shower thinking about Rhett’s mouth on him, and even a middle-of-the-day session where he found himself silently biting into the heel of his hand to stifle his moans because he missed Rhett’s cock stretching him open. 

But this feels _different_. 

This is forced distancing, as it has been for several days now, only being able to see each other or speak through the phone and laptops. He knows that. But more than that, this is also having something taken away from him that he didn’t know he would miss so much and being told _no, you can’t have it_. Now it’s dangling in front of him like a dog with a bone, making him realize just how much he hated it being gone. Having Rhett only six feet away instead of a mile away; having him _right there_ , across the room, hand around his cock and green-grey eyes burning for more; seeing him sitting there, just as horny, body begging for touch just as desperately, is all too much for Link’s body and mind to handle. 

“You fucked your fist thinking about me?” Link huffs. He raises his hips enough to shove his jeans and underwear down past his hips, stopping at mid-thigh; it’ll have to do for now. “Show me.” 

Rhett moans and bites his lip, but he wastes no time pulling himself out of his underwear, showing Link how turned on he is. Fist loose around his length, he looks just as needy as Link feels. His cock is flushed red and slick, precum beading at the tip and slowly dripping over his knuckles. He strokes himself, staring directly at Link while he does so, eyes hooded and mouth parted on another moan. 

“Your turn,” Rhett pants, gesturing with his free hand towards Link and his slack fist. 

Groaning, Link tightens his hold around his shaft and squeezes once, stroking up towards the head. A fat bead of precum spills over and he gathers it up with his thumb and index finger, spreading it around and down, effectively slicking himself up and easing the way for his hand. His cock throbs and his belly clenches. 

Link can’t speak anymore. Watching Rhett across the room, pumping his dick for Link, expression twisted up in arousal, it’s overwhelming. He’s horny and desperate and needs Rhett to come touch him, to wrap his hand around Link’s and help him get off, but he _can’t_ and that’s frustrating for Link as well. 

The only sounds for several moments are their breathy moans and strangled gasps. Link watches Rhett and Rhett watches Link, both of them fisting their own cocks furiously in their attempts to get off without being able to touch each other. Link is close, but not close enough, not by his hand alone. He can tell Rhett’s close, too, by the way his breath hitches in his chest and his stomach tightens and the way he curls in on himself slightly. 

Link moans wantonly, nearly in tears over how much he wants to cum from Rhett’s hands, Rhett’s fingers, Rhett’s mouth and cock. “ _Rhett_ , I want--” he whines. He squeezes around the base lightly and slows down his hand, taking a second to breathe, to calm down a little. His heart is going to pound out of his chest if he doesn’t take a moment.

“I know,” Rhett moans. “I know, _I know_ , I want you over _here_ , not over there.” He fucks up into his fist, now slick and shiny with the precum dribbling out with every pump of his hand. Link can see it, wants to taste it and run his index finger through it. “You’ve no idea how much I wanna fuck you right now, Link.” He laughs, a high, whiny sound that has Link’s cock throbbing. 

Link whimpers and squeezes his hand, the idea alone enough to make him shudder. “I _do_ ,” he gasps out. Pulse racing and chest rising and falling rapidly, Link shifts around in the chair and kicks off his jeans and underwear the rest of the way with a huff, not caring where they land. 

“What’re you doin’?” Rhett asks, hand stilling over his cock.

“If I can’t have you--” Link pauses and hitches a leg over the arm of the chair, exposing himself to Rhett in an obscene display. “Then I can at least pretend while you watch.”

And without another word, Link sucks two clean fingers into his mouth, thoroughly wetting them until they’re both dripping with saliva. He hears Rhett’s breathing pick up and the ragged moan tumble from his mouth and sees the way he’s trying his hardest to keep his eyes focused on Link. Link grins around the digits in his mouth then removes them, reaches between his thighs, and circles his hole. 

He keeps his eyes locked on Rhett’s as he slowly pushes the first finger in. The spit doesn’t help the sting much, but it’s enough. It’s enough to make him arch his back and bite his lip as he pumps his finger a few times before easing in the other one. Rhett’s mouth has fallen open and his chest is heaving, hand moving slow over his cock. His other hand clenches on the couch beside him, knuckles white with the effort of digging in into the cushion. 

“Link--”

“Shut up and watch me fuck myself,” Link says. 

Link pumps his fingers in and out of his hole, the slight stretch and sting sending delicious sparks along his nerves, and strokes his cock in time with each slide in and out. He’s leaking all over his shirt and his hand but he doesn’t care, he’s so close. If he just imagines it’s Rhett’s fingers, Rhett’s spit wetting his skin, Rhett’s hand on his dick--

His orgasm takes him by surprise. He’s hit with a blinding heat that makes his stomach clench and his toes curl and punches the air from his lungs. The moan that tumbles from his chest is strangled, broken, as he cums over his fist and onto his shirt. 

It isn’t until he’s coming down and shaking, struggling to breathe, that he notices Rhett’s hand has sped up on his cock, a blur of movement. He slumps further into the chair and takes in the sight of Rhett fucking into the tight passage he’s created with his fist, his scrunched face, the sweat shining on his forehead and thighs. 

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Link murmurs. Rhett whines and that’s it, he’s releasing, spurting thick white streaks over his shirt much the same way Link did. He groans through it and Link murmurs his praise, tells him how good he is and how hot he looks cumming on himself like that. 

When he’s finished, Rhett sags onto the couch with a soft moan. Link drops his leg back to the floor and he can’t help a chuckle seeing the state they’re both in: flushed, covered in their own jizz, sweaty. 

“We’re a mess,” Rhett states, looking down his chest at himself. He swipes a hand through the mess on his shirt and scrunches his nose. “We’ll need to change before we leave.”

And that has Link frowning. He doesn’t want to leave. He wants to strip down and shower together, kiss a little, touch a little, spend the whole afternoon and into the night here with Rhett. But he knows they can’t, no matter how tempting it may be. 

“I don’t want to leave,” he says anyway. 

Rhett frowns and sighs, “I don’t either.”

So for a moment they don’t. They clean up silently in separate rooms and they sit in the kitchen, six feet away, just talking. It’s just as good as what they came here for, and Link feels content, for just a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> please don't cancel me for that title 
> 
> huge thanks to @secondhand-watermelon for editing this nonsense for me! <3


End file.
